


Not You, Too

by LupusNiveus



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Proteccs, Bucky cares for Pete, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes, complete fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupusNiveus/pseuds/LupusNiveus
Summary: Loss isn't something a child can cope with easily, quickly, or on their own. It takes the care of others to bring back some sense of peace, stability, and love. Luckily for Peter, he has Bucky, a man who's more than used to caring for others despite all the loss he's endured himself.One heart-wrenching, late night, Bucky realizes Peter needs someone to lean on more than anything else - and he's there for him.





	Not You, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is my first work, and I hope you enjoy all its fluff and angst. I think these two would have such a good friendship, Peter looking up to Bucky and Bucky caring for this little, pure kiddo, so I decided to give it a go. I would be more than happy to read your feedback, so definitely feel free to leave some.
> 
> Wishing you a good read!
> 
> P.S. May continue writing these, Bucky caring for Peter and all, if you enjoy it! :)

_. . . and it was at this point that the Germans realized_ _that the war was over. The Battle of the Bulge was truly the last opportunity for the Nazi regime to-_

The man pauses the documentary. Sapphires glance at the clock opposite the couch; he preferred the traditional analog ones.

_2:12am_.

Bucky breathes out a disappointed sigh as he leans his head back against the cushion of the couch’s armrest. On nights like these, when he could not bring himself to the tranquility of slumber, he would pass the time journaling, watching documentaries, or drawing. They gave him something productive to do. His mind could wander and unchain itself from the stressors of the real world. It was all better than sitting around and lying in regret and shame, anyway.

At times, he would start prepping breakfast for the following morning. Though, given his companion’s l o v e for freshly-made chocolate chip pancakes, the most he could do was measure the ingredients and cut up some fruit. Speaking of his partner in crime, a familiar, curious face peeks around the corner, chocolate irises locking onto Bucky from the hallway. The man straightens his posture and positions his back upright. He furrows his eyebrows and rubs his eyes, thinking the sight to be some sort of illusion forged by sleeplessness and exhaustion. N-no.

       It’s him.

 

“P-Peter, what are you still doing up, kid? You’ve got school tomorrow.”

The little guy was hoping Bucky had fallen asleep and had simply forgotten to turn off the TV. Alas, he was wrong. Peter freezes after slightly flinching, mouth opening to nervously begin a stream of words.

“H-hey! No, um, yeah, it’s just. . . I was thirsty, and, uh, was gonna grab a glass of water, if-if that’s cool.”

The sound of the young hero stammering and stuttering isn’t anything new. This time, however, he’s _lying_. Bucky notices the quick swipe of Peter’s arms, appearing to toss something aside. He can’t exactly tell what it is, but it sounds like. .  . a towel? Perhaps clothing? At any rate, the soldier is unconvinced. Even after months of getting to know one another and creating a friendship the male would have never anticipated, the teenager STILL can’t seem to find a way to lie.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his lips clamped shut.

Orbs widen slightly. 

And he waits. 

The kid gulps, face flushing more and more with a scarlet tint before, as expected, his brims part again.

“Ok, ok, I. . couldn’t sleep, alright? And I was hoping, I don’t know, I could go on patrol.” Taking into consideration how late it is, he immediately adds, “J-just for an hour or, or something, not long at all, Bucky!”

Bucky exhales a sigh, withholding a snicker from within. It’s not a warm shower, a good book, or a new LEGO Star Wars set waiting to be constructed that Peter thinks about when he can’t sleep, no. It’s helping other people, putting his life on the line to protect his community. That fact alone made Bucky’s heart _swell_ with pride and joy. It takes a lot for him to conceal that pride and revert to ‘stern big brother’ mode.

“It’s late,” he responds succinctly. It’s a subtle rejection of the teen’s request. “Besides, you should be in bed right now. What’s up?”

This time, he knots his brows in genuine concern, patting the seat on the sofa next to him as an invitation to sit. A palm reaches for the remote to turn off the television. It’s the third night this week that Peter hasn’t been able to stay asleep. Bucky thinks it could be the SAT on Saturday that’s worrying him. It’s not common for a freshman to take such an upper-level exam, but Peter’s intelligence is just as uncommon.

Though. . . that can’t be it. It’s not the real exam he is taking, not the one that universities will look at when it comes to admissions. That test would come later, junior year, perhaps. He’s a smart kid, anyway, and most exams don’t intimidate him enough to rattle his mind and disrupt his sleep.

Bucky’s heart thus searches desperately for an answer. As he gazes into those wide, cocoa jewels of concern and mystery, he realizes it:

 

      It’s almost been a year since Aunt May was taken from him.

 

The anniversary of her passing. . . her murder. . . was just days away. The boy had essentially lost a mother - a second time.

Peter Parker had lost his parents years ago. In his early stages of adolescence, the loss did not register as much. His heart would miss part of itself for the rest of his life, but he functioned, and he found new parents in Aunt May and Uncle Ben. When he too lost Uncle Ben, he still had part of his world with him. It wasn’t the same, not at all, but Peter continued having something, someone, worth fighting for. He had a light that illuminated his pathway and inspired him to get up every morning and fight for what he thought was right. He had Aunt May.

He did, at least, up until about a year ago right as Mother’s Day was approaching. Delicately orchestrated, beautiful flowers that were supposed to brighten Aunt May’s and Peter’s homely apartment instead found themselves adorning her tombstone, commemorating a woman who would give all of herself to care for this angel of heroism, kindness, and selflessness.

Even now, she lives on. She lives on in Peter’s heart, urging him to fight and to move forward, to do all that he can to protect the city and make sure that no one else would ever suffer such a tragedy. As lacking of motherly love as it was, his heart continued to shine as golden as luminescent rays of sunshine. So when it comes to being there for Peter, Bucky can’t help but feel utterly useless. He can’t heal him or give him back his loved ones. He simply can’t, but he sure as hell isn’t going to stop trying his best to make the kid feel loved and valued.

 

“You sure, Buck? I don’t wanna take away your sleep or.. or anything. . ." The arachnid takes a hesitant step forward as his full figure comes into sight. Shoulders are slumped, eyes weary with fatigue.

“100%. Come on, you know that you can talk to me anytime.”

His tone leaves no room for questions or hesitations, and a gentle nod of his head points anew to the spot next to him. Peter looks to the side defeatedly and back at Bucky, the tiniest of smiles curling an edge of his lips before disappearing. He allows his body to fall limp as he takes a seat. Oculars blankly stare at the wall straight ahead of them, downcast, and he begins to speak.

“I don’t know, Buck, I -” For a moment, the truth threatens to escape and expose his heart to vulnerability. Peter silences it. “It’s this whole test thing this weekend. I.. I thought I would be ready, you know? I mean, I studied with you and Ned, I talked to Mr. Garcia, I read the book. . everything, but, I just /don’t/ think I’ll pull off a good score. . . And, and patrol, it helps me take my mind off things. It makes me feel like I’m doing something more meaningful than studying grammar or trigonometry, or anything like that.”

Thumbs tap against one another as he tries his best to maintain his facade.

“But. . um, yeah. That’s why I can’t sleep, I guess…”

 

Bucky’s features soften even further. He can sense the voice, the truth, in Peter hoping to be released. He wants nothing more than to hear it and soothe it, to provide comfort, love, and support to the teen who had already lost so much. Bucky can’t allow the pain to fester and gnaw at the kid’s heart any longer, even if it means being more direct and asking Peter to open up more. He has to protect him. .  he has to.

“Peter.” He begins. The tone in his voice draws Peter’s eye contact. “Look, I know tests, even this one, don’t normally stress you out like this. I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but you can tell me anything.”

Bucky extends an arm and caringly sets a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

“Bucky, I. . . “ Peter’s orbs meet Bucky’s, and they find the sincerity and protective love within. He emits a chuckle, but it’s not done so in amusement. It’s just. . . raw emotion coming to the surface. All dams collapse; his eyes begin to flood with emotion.

“I miss Aunt May.” The first tear slides down his face, and his voice picks up a despondent tone. “I miss her /so/ much, and, and I know there’s nothing I can do about it, but it’s almost a year since she’s been gone, and I - I just don’t know.”

A sniffle interrupts his speech.

A sleeve rises to wipe another incoming tear away, but another one immediately continues down the side of his face.

As he spoke, intermittent sobs and hesitations expressed the heartbreaking sadness of a child who had lost more than anyone should have to by that age.

“There were some kids in my class, friends of mine, and they were, they were talking about their plans for Mother’s Day this weekend, and I just couldn’t say anything. I never thought I would have to go through this again, but I am, and I-,”

Peter feels a pair of arms wrap around him. The next thing he feels is his face burrowed in Bucky’s chest. He tries to continue, but the sorrow imprisons his words. Instead, he simply allows himself to sob into the cloth of Bucky’s shirt, one hand clutching it tenaciously.

Bucky, too, holds onto Peter resolutely. He swallows down his emotions as he tries to keep his spirits high and reassuring. However, all he knows to do is to keep the kid in his arms, letting him know that he would always have a shoulder to cry on and a heart full of love within arm’s reach as long as the soldier was there. He brings a hand to the back of Peter’s head, pulling the teen in close as digits lightly stroke through his hair comfortingly.

 

“It’s ok, I’m here, I’ve gotcha.” 

Tears threaten to slide down the older male’s cheeks, but he keeps them at bay to stay as strong as possible for the young, innocent child in his embrace.

Peter lets out a sob, but he composes himself for a split-second, just long enough to whimper something.

“I don’t want to lose you, Bucky.” Another sharp inhale. “Not you, _too_.”

The sting Bucky feels echo in his chest distracts him from the teardrops that found their way onto his visage. He can’t promise him anything. He can’t promise Peter that he’ll be alive and well forever, not with the past that he has and the threats that it could attract in the future. It always pains him to be unable to promise Peter something he so desperately needs at the moment. It hurts. . .

“You won’t, Peter, I promise you I’ll do _everything_ I can to make sure that never happens.” That. . . the fact that he could try. . . he COULD promise. 

“I promise.”

He lays a softhearted kiss on Peter’s head as he continues to run his hand through his hair soothingly; the other is placed on the kid’s back to hold him close.

The soldier closes his eyes after a minute. The silence of the room, broken only by the snivels of the arachnid, smothers the room. Eventually, the sobs fade into occasional sniffles, and those into calmer, peaceful breaths. One conclusive exhale purges sadness and the shadow of loss out of Peter’s system, and the tranquility of sleep takes hold.

 

Bucky shifts one arm to go under Peter’s legs at the knees. He lifts the youngster carefully and walks over to the teen’s room, where he finds the sheets disheveled and troubled - the result of a nightmare-caused awakening.

He gently sets Peter down on the soft mattress, making enough room for him to fit alongside him as well. Once he nudges the teen’s cranium back onto the welcoming plane of his chest, and only after he secures him and embraces him as closely as possible does he pull the blankets back up to his shoulders.

He keeps a hand on Peter’s back to guarantee that he’s safe in his own arms - to protect him from the perils within his mind and those of the world around them. He wasn’t going to let anything touch Peter. The world had already corrupted and scarred Bucky, and he was nowhere near prepared to see it hurt Peter.

 

     _Not you, too,_ he thought.

 

The soldier’s orbs remain open for a brief window of time, but as the warmth of the angel beside him and as the length of the night takes its toll, his eyelids flutter close.

Sleep and comfort at last embrace them.


End file.
